


chronicles of the wolf queen

by xscintillate



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, jonrya secret santa, needleheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xscintillate/pseuds/xscintillate
Summary: for the lovely straight-to-county for the jonrya secret santasorry if it's not exactly what you wanted or expected, but i had the idea then just...ran with it as best i could





	chronicles of the wolf queen

**Author's Note:**

> for the lovely straight-to-county for the jonrya secret santa
> 
> sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted or expected, but i had the idea then just...ran with it as best i could

Arya has always been Jon’s. From the moment she was born with the Stark looks – the first of Lady Catelyn’s children to have them – she and Jon were bound together. Her first smile was given to him and he tickled her in her cradle, her first run was to try and keep up with his longer legs. Lady Catelyn always frowned and tried to take Arya away from Jon as they would play, but a stern look from Ned as Arya cried made her relent. As Arya aged, it was easier for her to come between them – Arya had her lessons with Sansa, Jeyne Poole, and the Septa and Jon was training with the master-of-arms and Robb and Bran.

The sewing lessons were the worst. Arya wanted to be good at sewing, truly! She was thrilled the day the Septa let her hold the sharp needle. She would be as good at this as Sansa, she was Lady Catelyn’s daughter too and her mother was the perfect lady. But the needle felt wrong and awkward in her hand as she tried to maneuver it, Septa Mordane yelled at her as her stitches turned out crooked and she poked straight through the area between her thumb and pointer finger, requiring a trip to Maester Luwin to stop the bleeding. When Arya was returned to her and Sansa’s room that night she asked Sansa how to sew good as Sansa merely smiled that ladylike smile of hers and said, “Arya, sewing is an art that just comes naturally for ladies – I’m sure I could not explain it.”

She remembered biting her bottom lip so hard it bled that night, trying to stay the tears. She would not give Sansa the satisfaction of hearing her cry. _Sansa was insufferable during lessons,_ Arya thought. Whenever Jeyne would make a mistake at her sewing and the Septa lectured her, Sansa was there to help her out. Whenever Arya made a mistake, Jeyne would giggle and Sansa would smile as they returned to their gossiping, leaving Arya to Septa Mordane’s mercy.

 

* * *

 

 

Arya did have the most fun when they rode together – until Jeyne remarked how much like her horse Arya looked like, what with her long face and all that. _Sansa should defend me_ _ **,**_ she remembered thinking, _she’s_ _ **my**_ _sister – not Jeyne’s._ But Sansa just kept her silence and let Jeyne call her Arya Horseface and neigh. She could take it. She just started spending more time running around with Bran and playing with the children of the common families who lived and worked in Winterfell. Whenever she felt her worst, she would go play come into my castle with the cook’s daughter or sit with the washerwoman when she worked, trying to think of a good name for the baby that would come in a few moons. Since she didn’t want to sit next to Sansa at dinner, she clung to her father’s side as he sat with his men. She went looking for flowers to put on the statues in the crypts. Sansa also got her own room, as befitting a lady and Arya no longer had to hide her tears at night on an especially bad day.

One day though, she overheard Sansa ask their lady mother if Arya was a bastard like Jon. A sister so unsatisfactory as Arya, she reasoned, could not possibly be her true sister. And she looked like Jon besides. Truly, they must have come from the same mother. Arya did not stick around to hear her lady mother’s response, but instead ran and hid in the godswood where Jon found her. As he hugged her and laughed, he told her he remembered Lady Catelyn’s pregnancy with Arya. “I was so excited to meet you,” he confided, “and when you smiled at me with the same eyes as mine I knew that you would be my special little sister.” Arya felt warmth spreading from her heart to her toes when he told her that. She admitted Jeyne had been calling her horseface and saying that she was ugly, but Jon told her she was as pretty as any girl he had ever known. She didn’t believe him, of course – even her mother admitted she was a mess with her gnarled hair - but it was nice of him to say.

Sansa hadn’t been punished for being impertinent, of course. Had Arya asked something like that she would have been confined to her room for the night, but Sansa merely got a talking to. Arya guessed the worst punishment for her was that Arya was actually her sister. And since Jon had talked to her, she felt less jealous of the time Lady Catelyn would spend with Sansa brushing her hair. Jon told her that Catelyn had loved her so much when she was born she wouldn’t let the wet nurses touch her – so despite all the frustration Lady Catelyn seemed to have about her younger daughter and everything she did and couldn’t do, she had to love her.

* * *

 

She remembered these things, sometimes (rarely), as a merling. Being a courtesan was harder than being in Izembaro’s troupe. In the troupe she could sleep at night and the night wolves would howl and she would remember she was Arya Stark. As Jeyne the merling girl, the girl who had run from a father who wanted to sell her to a drunk old man, she stayed up all night helping her mistress entertain the men who wanted to buy her company. During the day she slept as Nymeria slept, oh so far away. Arya seemed to fade during these days, nothing but a wisp of smoke lingering in the back of her mind. Arya Stark wanted to return sometimes, when men from Westeros would call to their pleasure barge. She would look at their sigils and wished she could remember who’s houses they belonged to. Maybe she had never learned.

But her moonblood came and jealous girls wanted her gone; they killed Jeyne one night – pushed her over the edge of the boat. When the bravos found out who did it, they were sentenced to death… another, quieter girl was promoted to the place that Jeyne left empty.

The Iron Bank was far more interesting. Meetings with the First Sword of Braavos, learning how they planned and plotted to send representatives to all the kings of Westeros. She thought she heard one even say they should call on the dragon queen – but he was quickly reminded that the dragons would never received the help of the Iron Bank, they who descended from the slaves who had fled the dragons. Besides, she was missing while a war waged in Meereen. Days passed like this, Arya learning the broader economics of running a kingdom. The men of the Iron Bank loved their little assistant well, sending her off with treats. She even met the First Sword of Braavos – the new one. But her time with the Iron Bank also came and went and she returned to the House of Black and White.

To her shock, she met Arya Stark there. Waiting by the pool, wanting to die. Arya saw Jeyne Poole – worse – Jeyne Poole saw Arya Stark.

A broken laugh ripped through Jeyne – sharp as glass it seemed to rip through Arya’s heart. “Why?” she gasped, “Why were you safe all along, Arya Horseface?” the name still stung after all these years. “I used to be prettier than you were. I was a better Arya Stark too, I was a good lady – a good wife! He tortured me regardless. He took things from me I’ll never get back when it should have been you -” she couldn’t continue to talk after that, she was crying too hard. Arya looked at her, trying to muster up her dislike and hate. This girl had been cruel to her, but looking at her now… her cheekbones were sharp and part of her nose was missing. In the end, Arya Stark dropped to her knees and hugged the girl, who cried and cried and cried.

When the tears were done, Jeyne looked at her quietly. Then she spoke quietly, “I never truly hated you. I was jealous of you. I thought I was better and though Sansa deserved a better sister.” Arya Stark bit her lip, Jeyne continued, “You’ve grown so pretty. Prettier than I ever was. Certainly prettier than I am now. Arya – you have to return to Westeros. The Bolton’s hold Winterfell, but the North will rally if you return – I know they will. Jon even sent down wildings to save me – he thought I was you, that’s how I got out!” Arya’s heart panged, Jon would not make her waver – he wouldn’t!

“But Arya… Jon is dead now,” Jeyne finished sadly, “The men of the Night’s Watch had killed him before we got there. I was sent to Braavos with an Iron Banker. Queen Selyse sent me away for safety, the red witch told her to.” Arya had stopped listening. Her world seemed to sharpen down into a point. Jon… dead. How could she exist in a world without Jon? Jeyne was looking at her with pity, how could she know? Arya stood up. She should return to the kindly man, she should be No One now, truly… how could Arya Stark exist without Jon Snow?

But when she regained herself she was not standing in front of the kindly man, ready to become No One. She was standing in front of the rock where she hid Needle. It called to her, she heard it. _You are Arya Stark, daughter of the North_ it told her, she remembered hearing it at Harrenhal so long ago. Then, _That’s stupid, she should kill the ones who killed her prince_ she heard herself say. She knew what must be done.

* * *

 

The kindly man had sent her off well. She had returned to him with Needle and he had somehow known. She tightened her grip on the sword, ready to fight her way out. But he had merely laughed at her.

“You have knowledge of language, of poisons. You have knowledge of money and the womanly arts. You can act, and you can kill. You know how to truly see people and how to find their secrets. You have even worn a few faces. But have you ever truly been a faceless man? We do not keep those who do not want to stay. What secrets of ours do you truly know that no one else does? That we kill, or that we change our faces with magic? You will not be the first acolyte to fail, nor will you be the last. But know this Arya Stark, you may never return to the House of Black and White, not even if you want the gift.”

Arya looked him squarely in the face. “I am Arya Stark, daughter of Winterfell. I will return to Westeros.” And so she was sent away with food and water, and she found a ship heading for the Saltpans and sailed home.

* * *

 

Westeros was rebuilding. It was no longer the fiery ruin she had left it. This uneasy peace allowed the smallfolk to heal a bit and rebuild their homes. She learned from the whores she spoke to that Stannis had retaken Winterfell from the Boltons, but had immediately returned North to the wall to fight the war beyond it. They laughed about it, saying he was truly mad to think the Others were there for they were only a children’s story. They said that Aegon Targaryen had returned to take his rightful throne, having been spirited away as a babe, and Cersei Lannister had fled Kings Landing for Casterly Rock after her son Tommen had been accidentally pushed out a window and died. Rumor had it that Cersei had done it herself, mistaking him for her dwarf brother and going mad. The Tyrells had taken their daughter the Queen Dowager back to Highgarden, as they felt she had done it purposefully to decrown young Margaery. With no allies at court, she had no protection when the Young Dragon had returned to King’s Landing and had no choice but to flee. With no opposition, the handsome lad had taken the Iron Throne and returned the rule to the Targaryens. The smallfolk loved him, Arya learned. He brought peace back to the Stormlands, the Crownlands, the Vale, the Riverlands and the Reach, though Cersei schemed in the Westerlands, she did not have the military might to throw a coup. The North had stayed quiet on his ascension, though as their might was turned beyond the wall, they also did not pose a threat. After sacking Oldtown, Euron Greyjoy had disappeared and had not yet been heard from again. The Freys had been slaughtered by the Brotherhood without Banners, they say Mother Merciless had arrived to the wedding between the Lannisters and Freys and killed everyone.

Arya would leave the South to itself. She knew from her time in Braavos that the Mother of Dragons had returned to Meereen, burning it down and she had plans to sail for Westeros. The peace would not last for long, she knew, but she would be able to travel North unmolested.

* * *

Nymeria returned to her. One night as he was riding through the woods she found herself surrounding by wolves. She would not be afraid, she was a wolf herself. She kept her eyes steady and her breathing even. When the wolves parted to and Nymeria came through, Arya felt the tears welling in her eyes. She braced herself, waited for Nymeria to savage her. It was what she deserved, for throwing rocks and making her leave, even if she was protecting her.

But Nymeria licked her face, licked the tears coming down. Arya Stark laughed for the first time in a long time. “I’m sorry, girl,” she said, “I never wanted to leave you. Nymeria, will you come with me?” And Nymeria did.

* * *

 

Seeing the Brotherhood hurt, seeing her mother **hurt**. She felt responsible, or course, she had asked Beric to bring back her father and he tried to bring back her mother instead. Catelyn Stark had screamed an unearthly scream when Arya and her wolves had interrupted one of her trials. Her mother, torn between her daughter and her revenge of Jaime Lannister had torn herself apart. Arya held her as the spark of light left her. She remembered her list, of people who she wanted to kill. Some had ended up dead by others hands, some by her own. She thought of what people called her mother, Mother Merciless. She looked at Jaime, the girl called Brienne and her squire, and the rest of the Brotherhood.

“You will stop this senseless killing,” she said tonelessly, “You will disband the Brotherhood, this outlaw group, or I will get the might of the North and my wolves to hunt you down. I will not have this be my mother’s legacy.” Once upon a time she thought she might stay with them, be Wenda the White Fawn again. Older eyes allowed her to see that though they though themselves protector of the smallfolk, they had raided them – stolen their food and weapons to go on their crusade. They might think themselves heroes, but they were no better than those they fought against.

Gendry had taken her by the arm then, pulled her away from the group.

“You can’t be serious,” he said flatly, “If we don’t protect the smallfolk, you lords and ladies will just kill us all to fuel your own ambition.”

Arya glared at him, “And what of your ambition? Stealing horses from travelers that can’t protect themselves? Taking food and lodging for free, pretending that your protection was payment enough? This is not true justice, Sir Gendry of the Hollow Hill.” He had no response to that.

“I waited for you,” he finally said, stiffly, “I hoped every day that we would be able to find you again after the Hound stole you away from us.” His cheeks reddened.

Arya shook her head, “Gendry, I ran away before the Hound took me. The brotherhood was keeping me prisoner and had plans to sell me to my family for ransom.” the echoes of an age old song rang in her head – _I could be your forest lass_ – but she was no forest lass, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell. “I will not allow any of you to continue this. I’m sorry, Gendry.” He turned angrily and walked away. It hurt, knowing she would likely never see him again. She hoped he would have his own forge, and find happiness someday. But she couldn’t stay here with him. She had to return home.

* * *

 

The Brotherhood did disband, they did not want to risk the wrath of her wolves. Some left, probably to form their own bandit groups. Others, like Edric Dayne, stayed with her to give her mother to the river and then go North to the Wall. Gendry was returning to his forge, with his orphans and Willow and her sister. He had cooled down to say goodbye to her, though he never met her eyes. “I will send the weapons I make North to Winterfell, my lady,” he promised. Brienne and Podrick and Jaime went south, heading for Casterly Rock. Jaime heard about Cersei killing Tommen and intended to give her justice for that, and Brienne wanted to travel with him as her vow to Lady Catelyn was filled by Arya being returned to her.

She and Edric Dayne and Thoros of Myr traveled North by horseback, accompanied by the wolves and her brother’s crown. The way North was empty, there was nobody traveling that way. The swamps were dangerous with their lizard-lions, but along the way they met Maege Mormant and Howland Reed, who were also traveling North. Lady Mormont cried when she realized it was truly Arya Stark and Howland Reed told her how much she looked like her Aunt Lyanna.

“It’s like seeing her come again,” he said to her solemnly. Howland and Maege shared with her they were also going to the wall, for Robb’s will had named Jon as heir as the King in the North. She read it. It stipulated that with Arya missing, Bran and Rickon dead, and Sansa disinherited by being married to Tyrion, Jon would be heir and given the name Stark, in return 100 men would be given to the watch to release him from his vows.

“But Jon is dead,” she said, “killed by his brothers.”

“We must see this for ourselves,” Howland responded, “for I’ve had dreams where he is alive.”

“My lady,” Maege Mormont said, “with you returned, you should be Queen. We should return to Winterfell first.”

_Home,_ Arya thought – and it tempted her, but no - “I must go to the wall and see that justice is given for Jon, first.” She would not have hope because of what the crannogman said about Jon.

* * *

Jon was alive. They had ridden up to the Wall, were greeted by the brothers, and then Jon had come out to see them. Arya’s world focused in on him, it felt like she could not breathe. She took a tentative step forward, then another.

Jon ran to her, wrapped his arms around her, peppered kisses in her hair. Arya cried, could not seem to stop crying. Her hair was dampened by Jon’s tears as well.

“We heard you were dead,” Arya said – it was just her, Jon, Maege, and Howland in a meeting room, “we heard your brothers killed you.” Jon frowned.

“They did,” Maege Mormont gasped, “I was… inside Ghost for a time. Then awake. The red woman was standing over me. When I awoke I was no longer a member of the Watch. I died at my duty as the vows said and once I was awoken, I was freed. 

“Red woman?” Maege asked, “I did not see anyone like that here.”

“She’s banished,” Jon said shortly, “She burned the Princess Shireen to assist Stannis while he was fighting to the North of the wall. But to no avail, Stannis was killed. He now fights for the army of the dead, along with his mercenaries. Queen Selyse killed herself shortly after.”

“Then the North is free again,” declared Maege Mormont, “We should declare our independence again.”

“We should rally and prepare for war,” Jon said darkly, “The Others are coming and we need to help defend the wall.” Howland agreed, and after a moment Maege did too.

“But who should rule?” Maege asked, “King Robb’s will names Jon, but with Lady Arya here, as the trueborn daughter of Ned Stark, she should have precedence. And there are rumors that Rickon was found on Skaagos by Davos Seaworth and is hidden in White Harbor now.”

“The crown should pass to Arya,” Jon said, just as Arya argued, “Jon should have it.” Jon stopped and gaped at her.

“Arya, I will not steal your birthright,” he objected, “The crown rightfully belongs to you.” Arya shook her head,

“Jon, you know the threat of the Others and fought them. I have no training to be a leader. You should be king,” Arya told him, “I will follow you anywhere, I will convince the Lords of the North it should be you over me. If they want to fight this, they can – once this war is done. They have to understand!” Maege and Howland agreed they saw the sense in that. Arya handed Jon the crown.

“It is yours,” she said. And that was that.

* * *

“What happened to you?” Jon asked her as they traveled to Last Hearth with Maege Mormont, Howland Reed, and Alys Karstark with Sigorn and his wildings to gain the strength of the Umbers, “I left you a child and you return to me a woman grown. They said you married Ramsay Bolton...” he trailed off, a dark look came into his eyes. There were some things he refused to elaborate on, the circumstances of his death being one of them. Arya had learned from Dolorous Edd that he has been killed for breaking his vows and sending men down to save her. The thought tied her insides up in knots and made her flush, though she didn’t know why. Besides, it was also true that Jon had become more a man grown while he was separate from her. The scars on his face only made him more handsome. _He is your brother_ , she found her reminding herself of that more and more lately. It didn’t help when Jon would look at her, seeming to drink her in like he was a dying man. Maege Mormont seemed unaware for the most part, but Howland Reed had caught them looking at east other a few times. His face gave away nothing, he was a solemn as the statues in the crypts of Winterfell.

“I traveled up the Kingsroad with Yoren, until he was killed,” she told Jon, “I was a captive and slave in Harrenhal and when I escaped I made my way to Braavos, where I trained with the Faceless Men,” she could not stop herself from telling him everything she had been through. Jon always had that effect on her, “I had to return when I heard… when I heard you had been killed.” Jon smiled sadly and mussed her hair.

“We are together now, little sister,” those words felt strange and wrong in a way they never had before, “Different roads lead us to the same castle, and now we won’t have to separate again.”

* * *

 

They gathered all the strength of the North, those who had fought with the Boltons had sworn fealty once faced with their every growing might and the direwolves that traveled with them. They had been reunited with Rickon in White Harbor, who was deemed too wild by the Lords to be considered for King in the North, though Arya and Jon were amazed at their once dead little brother returning to them. Eventually, he settled down as did Shaggydog – Nymeria would not allow the direwolf to act out when he was in her pack. They returned to Winterfell, where Sansa and Petyr Baelish were waiting for them with the forces of the Vale. While they were gathering the North, Petyr had revealed Sansa and come forth to claim Winterfell.

The North would not allow her to keep it, however. Sansa turned all shades of red as it was revealed to the Lords she had been disinherited by Robb and would not be allowed to keep the North. Arya followed her as he stormed out.

“Sansa, what does it matter that you can’t be Lady of Winterfell,” Arya argued, “You’re home with us, with the pack! That’s all that’s important.” Sansa glared at her.

“I have spent this whole time waiting to get **my** home back, and I almost did! But you and Jon came and stole it from me!” she smiled bitterly, “I once thought I was stronger within the walls of Winterfell, but it turns out I’m weakest here. There is no power for me here. You will not get the strength of the Vale to fight against Old Nan’s stories.”

Arya wanted to cry out as Sansa left with her retinue to return to the Vale, but in her heart she knew that Sansa had not been pack, not truly since Lady had died. Sansa didn’t even look back.

* * *

Winterfell felt strange and alien, this Winterfell that was rebuilt by the Bolton’s. It looked so much the same, but felt so different. She went down to the crypts often to bring flowers to Ned. More often, she had been feeling her insides tighten up around Jon. He seemed different now too that he wore Robb’s crown and had war councils. Arya sat in them on occasion, helping with the math and logistics of training the North to fight the impending threat.

One war council, a raven came bearing dark news from the South.

Daenerys Targaryen had landed, and burned King’s Landing, and the good king Aegon Targeryen with his family. She was feared throughout the realm, the Southron lords wondering who she would roast next. Many pleaded fealty to avoid the same fate.

From Casterly Rock, Cersei had died. Her young daughter Myrcella had taken ill and perished and the former queen had gone mad, Jaime Lannister had been the one to kill her. He then disappeared. No word was said of Brienne of Tarth and her squire.

While the south waited with their breath held of who the Mother of Dragons would visit next, the North continued to prepare for war.

Soon after that, the grounds of Winterfell shook with the beat of the Dragons wings. Arya and Jon went with the Lords to greet this queen the realm thought of as mad.

* * *

 

The supposed mad queen was nothing like what the smallfolk thought of her, Arya figured out quickly. She was young, and beautiful. And she hadn’t meant to burn the city. The wildfire under the city had ignited when she tried to scare her nephew off the throne, destroying the city. She had overhead the dwarf telling this to Jon one day, as he tried to convince him that the queen was truly good.

Tyrion Lannister was strange. Though he had fierce loyalty to his family, he seemed just as loyal to this queen. The wolves still did not trust him.

Nymeria growled at him as he came up to Arya.

“You do not like me, or the queen,” he observed, rather than greeting her. Arya brushed hair behind her ear.

“I don't hate you either,” she replied, “You will either help us with our war, or you will not. We could certainly use the dragons to fight the Others.”

“And the Queen is more than happy to give them to you, but she needs something in return,” he looked her up and down. He had the look in his eyes Jon gave her sometimes. When Tyrion did it, she just felt cold inside, “You’re a smart girl. You go to Jon’s councils and let him know what the North needs. The North needs power, and the queen… she needs help. The smallfolk see her as a madwoman, but that is not her. She must sew this realm together with something more than Fire and Blood to make them accept her.”

Arya’s stomach dropped, “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. Tyrion smiled at her sadly,

“Oh, but I think you do. Please convince Jon.” He walked away, whistling.

Arya felt tears well up in her eyes. Nothing would separate them, she remembered Jon telling her.

* * *

Jon was against it. “I will not marry her,” he raged, “Why must you ask this of me?”

“If not her, then who?” Arya asked sadly, “It would bring the realm together when it needs it most. We cannot win this war with just the North.” Jon glowered at her, but he saw sense in her words. He clutched her arm, brought her close. _Their faces were so close_ , Arya thought, _I could just lean up and…_

She would not, could not, allow herself to finish that sentence. Jon would marry Daenerys and the dragons would win the war for them.

After the marriage was announced, Bran returned with Meera Reed. Howland was glad to see his daughter again, and Arya was thrilled to see Bran. She hugged him for so long, never wanting to let go of him again.

He told her of his training with the children of the forest (Arya was astounded they still lived) and with the three eyed crow. He told her of the things he’s seen, past and future. He was older and wiser now, her brother, but he was still Brandon Stark.

“I had to return,” he said, “I must be the Stark in Winterfell once the battle wages. And I had to give this to you.” It was a sword, Valyrian steel.

“It is Dark Sister,” he told her, “And it was meant for you.” Arya tried to object, this was a Targaryen sword - “No,” he said firmly, “It is yours to wield now. She would not give up Needle, but she would be able to fight the Others with this.

“Now I will tell you something that you cannot tell anything,” he told her, “You must take this sword and go north. Take Nymeria, only Nymeria. Do not tell anything you are leaving. Go tonight. You will not be bothered by the Others, avoid them and the path will be clear for you.”

“I must be here for Jon, to help him,” she said, “I cannot go North alone! I will never survive.”

“Pack your warmest firs and some food for the journey. You will be sustained.” Arya quieted at his look. She did not want to leave, but… she trusted Bran and his wisdom. He seemed serious.

So in the dead of night, she wrapped herself in her warmest firs and strapped on Dark Sister and Needle. She took food enough to sustain her until she reached the Wall. She knew she could not take a horse, she would be found out, so she climbed on Nymeria’s back and left – silent as a shadow.

* * *

Traveling North was the hardest thing Arya has ever done. She made it beyond the Wall, going through the old, unused tunnels under it that Bran had told her about. Dark Sister comes in handy, with it she is able to kill game for food as she travels. She also is able to find winterberries when meat is scarce. She thinks she will never be warm again. She realized, now, she loves Jon. Loves Jon more than anything in this world, but he is her brother and must marry the dragon queen. Maybe she will die up here, she thought sometimes, and she will not have to live in a world where Jon is not hers. Her dreams are no longer of Nymeria now that they travel together, instead she dreams of the things happening in Winterfell. She sees Jon and Daenerys wed in front of the heart tree and cries out – Bran is there and looks at the heart tree, like he knows Arya can see them. She woke with tears more often than not. She heard that the girl who thought herself barren is now pregnant, she heard that the girl loves Jon. _Not as much as me_ , she thought fiercely, _never as much as me_. The tears would freeze on her face and she would push onward.

When she got so cold she could not breathe she forces herself to think of Jon, remembering the times he hugged her tight and peppered kisses on her face. She felt guilty towards his wife, having these thoughts about her husband. She wondered at other times how the war is going. As Bran said, she was not been bothered by the Others – never even seen any. The North is the emptiest place in the world and Arya was all alone. She did this though, for Bran, for Jon, and for all the North. She would protect her pack, no matter the cost.

She arrived at the end of the world, a crow flew above her – seemed to call her name. Across the icy field, she spied a castle. In her heart, she knows this is where she must go. She made the final trek, her lungs and muscles almost giving out from the icy cold surrounding her. She walked up to the door, remembering the years past when she stood in front of the House of Black and White. At that time she had nowhere else to go. She wondered if she followed Bran’s advice because there was no place for her in Westeros with Jon at Daenerys’s side. They would lead the realm to a new peace, North and South bound together by blood. Where could Arya fit - Arya who knows languages and poisons and how to kill? Bran would be the Lord of Winterfell, perhaps she could be on his council if she survives. She could stay in the North forever and never see Jon or his wife or his children again. But Arya knows she cannot live without Jon, knows she would live wherever he is even if he has a family that’s not her.

The castle was made of ice and snow and is beautiful in an empty way. _There is no love here_ , Arya realized, _this castle is no home to whoever lives here_. She entered the throne room. The sight that she saw made her heart clench in fear.

She heard many tales in Braavos, those of the Seven and the Old Gods, those of the ancient gods of the horselords and even older than that. She remembers now the tale of Azor Ahai and his wife, Nissa Nissa. She knew he thrust a sword into her heart, to temper it and save the world. Arya half wondered what horrors they would release trying to save theirs.

Nissa Nissa is cold and beautiful, sitting in front of a decayed heart that seemed to pulse with Arya’s own. The would where her heart had once been seemed to fester. Arya paused, then walked towards the queen. Nissa Nissa’s eyes locked with Arya, but Arya would not be afraid. _Fear cuts deeper than swords_ , she reminded herself of the saying that kept her alive all these years. She stops right in front of the ice queen, sees the tears frozen on her face. Arya wondered if she truly bared her breast to help her husband or if she was betrayed like many women have been over the past thousands of years.

“I know you have been in pain,” she found herself say – not knowing where the words were coming from, “But you are causing pain yourself. This winter will kill us all, from the old men to the babes in their cradle. What your husband did was not right, but we are not your husband. Let this revenge lie, it does not bring you joy.” A lesson Arya had learned herself. Nissa Nissa breaks her gaze finally. A hand goes over her belly as Arya realizes with horror that the woman must have been pregnant when she was killed. “I know why you steal babies,” Arya continued on, “But you are stealing from mothers that which was stolen from you so long ago.” Nissa Nissa removed her hand from her stomach, looks back up at Arya and almost seemed to shrug. This ice queen has no care for the families she will tear apart, she is too wounded – as Arya’s mother was too wounded. Arya grips Dark Sister. If she kills Nissa Nissa now, the winter should end. But the winters would come back, return so long as her foul heart kept beating.

You cannot kill a heart - it is not alive. Arya turns her head to the blue, beating heart in the middle of the room. There had to be someway to destroy the heart, to melt the icy magic that kept all of Westeros bound to these long terrible winters. If she stabs the heart – that’s it! She unsheathed Dark Sister, prepared to stab it into the heart. Nissa Nissa just looked at her from her throne, curious at what this small girl would do. Arya hesitates. She could burn the heart and kill Nissa Nissa, but would the queen ever be at peace if she never knew love again. She placed Dark Sister on the ground, took out Needle. She knew that if she tries to harm the heart of the queen with Needle, it would shatter just as normal swords do against the Others. But Needle is her love for her family, her love for Winterfell and the North and her love for Jon Snow. She stabbed it into the heart and heard Nissa Nissa scream. Needle shatters as the heart turns red, then starts to melt away. She turned to see Nissa Nissa on the floor clutching where her heart had been, the color returned to the queens face as she lets out the tears that have been frozen on her face for thousands of years. She almost looked like Arya. And before she died, through her tears, Nissa Nissa smiled.

With the ice queen gone, the castle started to collapse and fall. It could not live without Nissa Nissa’s magic. Arya started, as if woken up from a dream and runs. She tried to make it out, but as the castle collapses she remembered Jon’s words to her from so long ago. _When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers._

* * *

Arya hurt all over when she woke up.

“Mother?” she croaked out, “Robb? Father?” she is sure she is dead, there is no way she survived what she had. But something jumped on her, caused pain to shoot through all her muscles.

“Rickon,” she heard someone - was is Bran? “We are all excited Arya is alive, but you cannot jump on her right now. She needs to heal.” She cracked open her eyes, hissed as the light touched them. She kept them closed a moment more and then opened them and tried to push herself up.

She never felt so weak. Her arms were flimsy, could not hold her weight and caused her to collapse into bed.

“What happened?” she asked, though it hurt her throat to speak, “Where am I?”

“Harrenhal,” Bran told her, “Winterfell was destroyed by the Others’ army. We had to flee south, and only Harrenhal had the space to house everyone and keep them safe. Many lords also closed their castles to us, thinking they could save themselves from the winter that was coming for them.”

Arya learned that the final battle had taken place at the Trident, the whole realm had come together to stop the Others. She learned that a man named Euron Greyjoy had allied with the Others, thinking to make himself a God-King, but he had been slain by his niece Asha Greyjoy in single battle.

Arya didn’t want to ask, but she knew she must. “What of Jon and his wife?”

Bran looked away, Arya dreaded his answer.

“Queen Daenerys is dead,” Arya gasped in shock, “She bore a son before she died she named Aemon, Jon’s son. She knew she must take Drogon to help fight the battle and she was killed taking out a large portion of the army of the dead. Jon survived, Arya – Jon is...” Arya looked at her brother, curious at what he would say. “Jon is not our brother. He was born of a union between Rhaegar Targaryen and our Aunt Lyanna. Howland Reed told us all after he wed Queen Daenerys,” Arya’s head spun – Jon was not her brother, but her cousin? “He rode her dragon Viserion in the battle. When the dead collapsed and seemed not to wake is when I told him to fly up North and find you.” Jon had found her – had saved her from her icy tomb? Where was he now? As if he knew her silent question, Bran answered her.

“Jon is with the great lords – or those that remain. Daenerys was queen of the seven kingdoms by conquest before she died, and Jon her husband and last living relative. They have named him King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“But what of the North?” Arya asked, “Has the North knelt as well?”

Bran smiled, “Yes. As rightful Lord of Winterfell, I have made our peace with the throne. The Northern Lords have agreed as well, as Jon is also a Stark and was the King in the North who defeated the Others once and for all.”

So that was how the war ended. Jon was king, and the realm would rebuild.

* * *

 

Jon had not been to see her as she recovered, though her strength grew day by day. She would walk through her room to improve her endurance, eventually able to make it out into the halls of Harrenhal. She had no fear of this place, though her memories of it were terrible. Now though, she saw warmth in the walls. _Perhaps it feels like home because Jon is here as well_ , though he was kept busy by his Lords. They would argue about whether to rebuild King’s Landing or create a new capital where Jon would rule. Lords from all over came to kneel to the new kings. Months passed and Harrentown grew large again. No more accidents happened in the castle. With the death of the Others, the curse of Harrenhal had been broken the smallfolk gossiped. It didn’t make sense to Arya, as the curse was due to the Targaryens burning Harren and his sons alive, but maybe their ghosts had been laid to rest as well. Or there was never a curse on Harrenhal to begin with, as Arya suspected. Too often did people ruin themselves in fear of prophecy and curses.

Arya walked among the smallfolk, learning what the needed and helping them out with their chores as she did at Winterfell so long ago. She named their babies and played with their children. Word spread among the smallfolk of Harrentown that the Lady Arya was willing to lend an ear if they needed anything. She visited with Nymeria, who had survived with her and who spent most of her days in the godswood with Ghost and Summer and Shaggydog.

She even cared for Jon’s son Aemon. She walked into the nursery as soon as she was able. The wet nurse tried to protest, but Arya shushed her and walked over to the cradle where the prince lay. She wondered what she would feel about this boy, this son of the mother of dragons. He looked like his mother while asleep, a shock of hair for fine it was almost silver. But when she reached out to brush his soft forehead he opened his eyes and – oh, they were Jon’s.

Arya spent as much time as she could playing with Jon’s son. How could she hate any child of Jon’s? And Jon was so busy with the Lords, he hardly had time to see his son. Day after day, Arya justified Jon’s absence.

Until the day she heard Jon was leaving to travel through the realm, learn the rest of his kingdoms so he could rule them as best he could. Leaving her and Aemon behind. Arya felt her temper flare, she had been patient enough. Leaving Jon alone because she felt he didn’t want to see her (if he had, why hadn’t he come to visit). She stormed to the nursery and snatched up the baby, stomping into the chamber where her brother held his council. The lords looked at her intrusion in shock, not knowing what to say.

“Get out,” she snapped at all of them, “Jon and I have to talk.”

Tyrion Lannister tried to object, but she glared him down. Bran pushed himself toward the door, “We will leave them,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. As the door shut behind them, Arya turned on Jon. He refused to look at her in return.

“How dare you,” she snarled, “It has been months since I’ve recovered and you’ve never come to see me. You ignore your son as well,” Jon tried to raise an objection but she cut him off, “I know you haven’t, I’ve been there everyday”. Jon looked stunned, finally met her eyes, saw her holding his son. He slumped in his chair.

“I… I don’t deserve forgiveness,” he said slowly, “But you’re right and I apologize all the same. But I could not bear to visit you.”

“Couldn't bear…? Jon do you hate me so?” Arya finally voiced her worst fear, that Jon hated her for leaving him during the war – that he didn’t love her anymore.

“No! Nothing like that. Arya, you don’t understand. Little sister… no, not my sister,” he muttered.

Arya knelt at his feet, Aemon in her arms, “Then help me understand, Jon. I cannot go on it you don’t.”

He paled, sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Arya, when I left for the Night’s Watch so long ago you were a child. I kept that image of you in my head until the day I was killed by my brothers. When I awoke and you returned to me… Arya, you were a woman grown and more beautiful than I had ever seen.” Arya held her breath, not daring to hope, “We traveled together as brother and sister as my feelings for you got more sinful. I had thoughts no man should have about his little sister. I tried to ignore them, but it was so hard… you were so vibrant and strong and able to get even the fiercest lord to do as you want. When Daenerys came, I thought to myself that I would learn to love her and rid myself of these sinful thoughts. I would be loyal to my lady wife and not think of you.

“But then you disappeared and how could I not worry for you everyday! Bran told me you would be safe, but how could I believe him when you were by yourself save Nymeria. And then Lord Howland revealed the truth of my parentage… here I was, not who I thought and I was married to my Aunt. When the war ended and Bran told me to get you up North… Arya, when I found you and Nymeria there buried in the ice and snow I thought my heart would stop. I realized then that my feelings for you would remain unchanged. I couldn't burden you with that.”

Arya felt tears in her eyes and blinked them away. Jon continued, “I told myself I could not see you and you were always with my son! How could I go to see him and risk running into you. I don’t think I could have contained myself,” he took a shuddering breath, “do not hate me Arya, but if you cannot abide what I feel for you I will not bother you any longer.”

Arya let out a laugh, startling Jon, “You stupid,” she said fondly, “you… you stupid.”

* * *

Jon Snow married his cousin Arya Stark in front of the heart tree in the Gods’ Eye before all the lords of the land who were at Harrenhal. The marriage was officiated by Samwell Tarly. Some lords may have grumbled, hoping to parade their daughters in front of the Hero-King and gain his favor. But Jon had only ever belonged to Arya.

She and Aemon traveled with Jon as he traveled the realm, being hosted by the remaining various Lords of the kingdom. She was no lady, she was quite crass and was prone to finding out their deepest secrets. She had no head for courtesies and could not sew. At the same time, she spoke many languages and was well versed in history and was able to speak well with the envoys from Essos. But the smallfolk loved Queen Arya well as she loved them. If she felt a lord was not being just to them, a midnight visit would be payed with a dagger and a threat. The lords, cowed into obedience by the Just Queen would change their ways. They traveled to the Eyrie where Sansa Stark, the Lady of the Vale ruled. Sansa gritted her teeth and called Arya Your Grace and hosted her with the greatest courtesy. Arya forgave her for abandoning the North at their time of greatest need. Though the sisters would likely never get along, they entered an uneasy truce following their visit. They returned to make their court at Harrenhal, as Jon felt the capital of the realm should be in the center – where he could get wherever he was needed.

Queen Arya Stark eventually bore her husband Jon three sons and two daughters. Their firstborn, named Robb would become the finest knight in the realm and their son Edward, called Ned, was a renowed scholar. Their daughter Lyanna was wild, often running with the direwolf puppies that Ghost and Nymeria eventually bore. Their youngest children, the twins, were named Aegon and Rhaenys for the siblings Jon never had the chance to know. Prince Aemon was heir apparent to the throne, however, and to Arya’s relief her children would not inherit – though many agreed she was a kind and thoughtful queen, Arya never felt comfortable in her crown and didn't want that for her children.

But one day, the people of the realm agreed, everyone would know the song of ice and fire that told of the hero-king and his beautiful queen, who saved the realm and brought peace and prosperity and a summer than never ended.

**Author's Note:**

> also, i don't hate sansa even if i did do her a little dirty in the story. i just can't write her so i needed a way to get her out.
> 
> also keep in mind this fic is from arya's pov so we don't know sansa's feelings about how the north she's wanted to get home to has rejected her


End file.
